Big Year In Titles

The so-called festive season stopped meaning much to me a long time ago. When I was younger, I thought it was all about celebrating the birth of a supposedly blue-eyed man with a perm and a bit of a temper. Now I know it’s a ruse that enables Hollywood to keep making money off Home Alone and It’s A Wonderful Life. Now I don’t celebrate December 25th or 31st as much as I used to. I spent the 25th and 31st of December 2014 playing Saints Row IV and Tomb Raider respectively. 2015’s 25th and 31st were respectively spent watching cartoons and writing poetry sick rhymes for my upcoming mixtape, drops later this year, it’s going to be hotter than summer with malaria (leaked lyric from one of the tracks to get you hyped). I don’t make resolutions either, because I’m perfect the way I am.

Why, of course I’ll keep wearing pajamas to class. How nice of you to ask.

This is why I don’t have a crazy story about how I got wasted and woke up on 1st January 2016 in some hotel room in Guatemala with a tattoo of Peter Griffin on my face, six of my fingers missing and an unconscious gigolo named Alejandro on the floor. You’ll have to wait until my birthday for that one. All I have for you today is stuff about my 2015.

First of all, it was a big year in music. Justin Bieber finally grew up, Fetty “Singing Cyclops” Wap happened,  Jerry Seinfeld did a surprisingly good rap album and there was Adele’s crazy-stupid success – 3 million copies in a week, and I still haven’t heard Hello or any of its covers.

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And there was this. Especially this.

I spent my time not caring because I only listen to real music. Migos for life, free Offset.

It was a big year in education. Eight months of school was okay, I guess. I didn’t attend classes that much. To be fair, I did try once. I went to class on the first day, only to have to sit through hours of the lecturer making dirty jokes with his chest hair out. I was so disgusted, I never went back.
No, thank you, hairy “poet” with a PhD from Stanford, I prefer kindergarten-friendly humor.
I spent most of my time in my room with coffee and Wi-Fi keeping me from insanity.

It was a big year in friendship. I met a whole new bunch of people. There were good people who can participate in arguments about Martin Scorsese’s best movie. There were horrible people who still have Internet Explorer pinned to the taskbar and don’t shut my door when they leave. Then there’s the others. People who express all forms of emotion by throwing stuffed animals at you (this may or may not have been me), people who strangely win every game during their alleged first game of poker (beginner’s luck doesn’t last five hours, you cheater!) and people who draw a knife on you at every turn.

Side note: I’ve had more knives pointed at me last year than ever before. It’s like everybody in my life was auditioning for Samurai of the Year or The Bride in Kill Bill.

Back to friendships.

My friend-zone stats were on a roll. I found myself in more friend-zones than Barney the Dinosaur. Escapes are hard. Being as hopelessly unromantic as I am, I gave up when I found my efforts on the verge of “I know we’re far apart, but let’s both look at the moon at the same time and pretend we’re holding hands”.

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[sighs deeply]
I resigned myself to being the noble one that helps a girl pick out lingerie to surprise her boyfriend on his birthday. I know my reward awaits me in the afterlife. Meanwhile, these heathens and their lingerie won’t make it into heaven. Can I hear someone say “eternal damnation”?

It was a year that found me starting a blog for vague reasons. Hooray, impulsiveness! Recently, WordPress showed me two interesting ways that people have stumbled upon this blog. You can apparently find it by Google searching “what does a naked girl look like”. Then there’s an actual porn site that references this blog. I won’t mention the name of the porn site in order to protect the integrity of some of my readers (hello, Mother). If you’re one of the people that found this site through the criteria above, you vile virgin scum of the earth dear reader, I hope you burn in hell surrounded by celibates welcome you.

It was a big year in movies. Fury Road stood out in a year with two major Marvel releases, a Bond movie, another Quentin Tarantino movie with Samuel L. Jackson in it and Star Wars (just in case you still thought 2015 was playing games) despite the fact that it was a sequel in a series whose last instalment was thirty years ago. That right there is a success story for all you Michael Bay fans out there. Before I go, I’ll leave you with this cinematic masterpiece from talented thespian, Aubrey Graham, for old times’ sake.

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